So the Project Runway skort outfit didn’t win. I can handle it. I feel a little better about the skort in my closet now, although I’m still not pleased that part of wearing skorts and skirts means that you have to shave your legs more often. What a drag, what a drag. I’m all bristly right now and ended up in jeans today, even though I was online boasting the other night that I’d reclaimed some skirts. Too-blue jeans cuffed at the bottom in a stupid way because I didn’t feel like wearing the sandals that make the hem acceptable, with one of my poor shirts that has a tiny hole in the belly because of my belt that went sharp, without even wearing a new belt. I did not look very fabulous at the grocery store, I’m afraid.
I blame the sloppy outfit for my sloppy decision making today. I wasted time like it was water all morning and I ate candy for lunch. People have been pissy online today (in general, probably because I am looking for it) and I put myself into two conversations I should have just stayed out of. I let other people’s crabby, rude habits infect me and got called a bitch in the politest way possible–and I probably deserved it. I am over points on my diet because I refused to not eat dinner, and I have in no way prepared for a birthday party on Saturday. I have a house to clean, a cake to decorate, some presents to wrap, and Guilder to blame for it. The podcast I thought was going to have a limited run appears to be stretched to weekly shouting indefinitely. At LEAST the movie theater will be showing WALL*E at a time when it will be convenient. That will be a boon. I also had a nap today, but I am still sleepy. Having leftover chili was quite helpful, too.
I have a bunch of figs from Costco that I have no idea why I bought but I need to make something soon or freeze them. I’d love to gobble them up with prosciutto, but there are no trips to any Italian delis in my future and I hate the Hormel stuff from the grocery store. Maybe I can find some recipe and bake something that can double as treats for the party guests, like some kind of homestyle fig newton. Fig pudding seems too Christmas-y. But effort… think of the effort that will be required. Plus recipes usually call for dried figs. I have no intentions of canning anything and I’m not really very creative. I sense another tirade coming on. On the other hand, one fig has only fifty calories. I could get myself a can of aerosol whipped topping and let loose. It would be a hell of a lot tastier than pigging out on the candy I had, which was tasty but unsatisfying.
Of course, when you are already feeling bad about eating the candy in the first place, you feel no guilt about leaving the greens and yellows behind.
Meanwhile, deadlines loom ahead of me and I need a table of contents to submit for work and I am out of ideas. Who would have thought looking for popular press articles about gender roles would be so difficult? Added to that is the go-ahead for the Japan book, which should go kinda quick if I would just sit down and edit one article a day, but my work ethic–as noted previously–is shot to hell. Shot to hell. I predict some late nights in my future. It’s not so bad. I get a lot done during late nights. Just look how much writing I can get done when no one is awake or at home to bother me!
Here’s to crossing your fingers, hoping I lost weight and did not regain weight this week, eating healthy and flavorful food tomorrow, and laying off the sauce. The sauce is the source of all my trouble this week, you know. That and laundry. Clothes suck.
As they like to say over at MySpace, my mood tonight is whiny.
The sauce! The sauce!